Dark Times reveal Dark Sides
by sevenofmine
Summary: Recommended MA. He's a psychopath who murders when he's bored. He's a sociopath who plays when it's fun. He's a killer who identifies with Jane. Jane has shown a lack of emotion, a lack of pity, a lack of morality before. What would Lisbon be able to do, if Jane realized that he neither is the only one with certain skills, nor the CBI the only use for them...?
1. Helpless

First Chapter: Helpless

Cold.

Everything is cold. The streets, the houses, the light.

When I walk down the alley, next to me some trees, the leaves making silent noises in the wind. The houses quiet as dead, some lights are still on. It must be warm inside there. It is cold out here.

I walk on, my collar high up against the wind.

The street-lamps are burning brightly yellow, shining mysteriously down like fire. A fire burns in me, keeping me warm and cold at the same time. There's a man walking past me with a dog.

Tall, brown hair under a hat, wedding ring is shimmering, freshly married, shaving foam left, his wife's away, probably with her job or family, his eyes are red and watered, non-frequent drug use, jacket is old but washed often, typical middle class. I look away before our glances can meet, uninteresting.

I'm bored while walking, try to think about something else. A fictional world, a fictional story, science fiction. I turn right, waiting at the traffic lights. Reality can be so boring.

My hands are digging deeper into the pocket of my jacket. They touch my cell, little light phone.

The traffic lights show green, I cross the street. Hardly anybody's outside, most people like taking the car in winter. I don't. I like coldness. It matches…to me. I hurry but I have all the time I need.

I tear my scarf tighter.

A police car is rushing by. Nobody takes notice of the people and all the happenings around one, I register everything.

The cops aren't even taking a look aside, only the car, only them, only the crimes that already _have_ happened, not focusing those that will happen. I enter the dark street, no lights shining down, nobody staring out of the windows.

The people are trying to protect themselves, lock themselves up in their flats, the curtains don't show what is going on inside.

Right to me, lower flat, cheap curtains, dried drops, man got violent and hit the woman, she nearly tore the curtain down, it's only hanging half way, a broken piece of glass shimmering under it, on the inside, the window's intact, the man hit her with a bottle, she was bleeding, explains both the red spots of blood and the transparent one of alcohol, probably vodka, not much bottles of alcohol are transparent like the glass fragment.

More people on the streets like before, hanging out in groups, drinking, smoking, dealing. They stare at me, I glimpse at them. Boring. I carry on my way, I've got somewhere to retreat, do they have?

A girl alone there, she eyeballs me, decides to go for it, suddenly jumps into my way. Heavy make-up, darkly surrounded eyes, painted pale facial skin, eyes moving quickly, cheap ecstasy, she's cried recently, make-up wiped away with her right hand, indicated by the uneven make-up on the right cheek and the white-brown stripes on her right sleeve.

"What about a night, cutie?" she whispers with a rough voice, drags unconfidently her cigarette.

She blows the smoke up in the air and tries a smile with lipstick-mouth, color too red. Her legs are small, she doesn't eat much, replaces meals with pills and fags.

"Come with me," I whisper and look around shortly. Nobody's paying attention, nobody will have seen any of us.

Her smile gets bigger, it's faked anyway. She chews on her cigarette, not inhaling deeply.

We walk on together, I walk fast, she follows me. I leave the district, there's a train bridge, we're passing under it. I try not to accidentally step on some homeless. We arrive at a dark place close to the river, the moon's lightening the water. Romantic, crosses my mind, but the word doesn't ring any bell.

She flips away the cigarette, blows the rest of the smoke at my face. Now it is my turn to smile, her eyes are bored, but I seem to be of interested for her, a difference to usual customers, I assume.

"How do you want it?" she asks with her smoky voice and tries to get close to me.

I touch her shoulders and push her away.

I think.

I have a knife in my coat, too easy. She already looks confused, doesn't know what to do. My hands are gliding from her shoulder to her neck. She smiles, thinking I'd try to touch her first.

All kinds of people can be stupid, it doesn't surprise me anymore, no puzzle remains unsolved I hope.

My grip is getting stronger, her brows are raising in surprise, soon turning into concern. My turn to smile. I step forward, my grip is tight, my hands don't tremble.

Her hands are clasping around mine, she tries to pull mine away. "Stop," she coughs but doesn't get enough air to protest.

She can't breathe anymore, her eyes are whining, tears running down her cheeks and my hands and she stumbles backward, falling down with her high-heels. I bend down, my hands clenching her neck harder. "Help," she doesn't speak but her lips are speaking volumes.

"Sh-sh-sh…no one can here you," I hiss. She wants to cough but can't. Her face white as chalk, her hands are losing their grip, she doesn't defend herself anymore.

Her eyes are closed, I stop strangling her, I'm heavily breathing as well, not because it was exhausting, no, it wasn't at all, it was exciting, a kick, but rather turned me on, aroused me, I feel a chill, so hot it is.

My hand lies on her belly, on her mouth, her nose.

A light breath, a slow pulse.

I stand up again. My foot crushing down on her face. Several times.

Blood is covering her pale face. Blood is flowing down, dripping on the stone.

I hear her nose break. I hear her sub-consciousness scream. Helpless. No breath. No pulse.

I stare at the girl.

So silent, so calm, so quiet in the moonlight. I start walking away. My hands are gliding into the pockets of my coat. I don't look back.

This girl is past. Past is not of interest. Present is neither. The future is what counts.

What is my future?

What is his future?

**It would be nice if you review.**


	2. Show you

Chapter 2

"Jane!" Lisbon shouted.

"Hm?" the counselor asked and opened his eyes. He has nicely dreamt about…not so important.

"New case," the boss said and put on her jacket.

"Hm," Jane answered and slowly got up.

"Hurry up, Jane!" Lisbon said already at the edge of her nerves.

He searched his jacket until he noticed that it had been his night pillow. He put it on and followed Lisbon, Cho and Rigsby to the elevators.

"What kind of a case?" he asked.

"Murder," Cho said and the elevator doors opened.

"Haha, funny," Jane commented half-sleeping.

***At crime scene***

"Female, twenty-nine years old. She lived a few streets in northern direction," Rigsby said.

"Why don't you directly say she was a prostitute?" Jane asked and started sniffing at the body which made Lisbon roll her eyes again. "Cheap perfume, cheap make-up, she has cried, probably without her last customer or shortly before death. She was strangulated?"

Rigsby nodded.

"Angry customer?" Cho asked.

"Nah, I don't think so," Jane commented. "The hands that had strangulated her weren't big…and weren't strong either. Or he hadn't had to kick her face," he said with his tone becoming disgust when he examined her bloody face.

"So he became angry…and aggressive," Lisbon said.

"No," Jane interrupted. "If he was angry, he would have kicked and hit her before finished strangulating. He choked her until she was unconscious, noticed that – of course – she wasn't dead yet, he kicked her several times in the face. If he was angry, he would have also hurt her…stomach…and other body parts. He wasn't a real customer of her. And…his kicks were precise, no aggressive act."

All agents and police officers remained silent for a second. Suddenly, a cell phone beeped. All of them looked at Jane but he said: "My cell has another to….oh." He kneed down to the victim and searched for a cell. He found the touch-screen phone in her pocket and disabled the key lock.

"Congrats," he muttered and ran to Lisbon to show her the SMS.

"He is watching us," she muttered and looked around.

"And hearing us," Jane said silently so that only the team could hear him.

"No wonder," Rigsby suddenly said and kneed down. Seconds later, he picked up a little 'thing' from under the body. "It's a bug, he stated and bagged and tagged it.

"This is no classical murder. No killer would leave a bug to listen to us," Lisbon summed up.

"Nor would he write an SMS to the victim," Jane said. He started typing.

"What are you doing, Jane?" Lisbon asked.

"Writing back."

"You won't. This is evidence," she said and grabbed the cell phone. She deleted this SMS and put it into a plastic back.

Jane just rolled his eyes and sat down on the near park bench.

"What?" Lisbon asked.

"What 'what'?"

"Would you mind helping us?"

"I already told you everything."

"But we haven't caught the murderer yet," Lisbon answered aggressively.

"We can't. He hasn't make a mistake yet. He was too careful but this isn't the only murder he will commit."

"And you know this why?"

"Lisbon…he's a serial killer who wants to play with us…although he isn't Red John…interesting."

"Interesting? That's all you have to say about this?" Lisbon asked in disbelief.

Jane hesitated for a moment, then he stood up. "There's nothing more to do here for me. I'm at the CBI." Before Lisbon could answer, he turned around to his car and drove away. Lisbon shook her head. Sometimes she really couldn't understand their counselor.

***CBI HQ***

Jane lay on the bed in the loft. He used the time he had before the others appeared. He had seen the number of the cell and now wrote back with his own phone.

_Why did you kill her?_

It was better to start with something simple. Maybe it was just another killer but he seemed to be intelligent enough. He left a listening device and the cell to communicate with them. Did he want the attention of the CBI?

His cell already beeped and he looked up the new message.

_Do I need a motif?_

Jane typed quickly, he knew that Lisbon would hit the roof if she found out.

_Everybody has a reason to kill. Not necessarily a motif to kill a certain person._

He knew it wasn't the best English he wrote but he sensed that the team must soon get back and Lisbon would pull him down to the office and there he couldn't write SMS' without being noticed.

_You seem to have experience, Mr. Jane._

He wasn't surprised that the murderer knew his name. But he certainly felt some kind of strange writing an SMS with a murderer they were searching. What if he could try to locate the other cell?

_Maybe._

He smiled at himself. The murderer should know that he wasn't an easy target, whatever he planned.

He felt the vibration and opened the next message. His smile vanished immediately.

_How did it feel killing your nemesis? How did it feel to find out, he was the wrong guy?_

Jane shook his head. This guy was playing with him. He knew too much.

_Are you Red John?_

This question was stupid but if he was, he would get closer than he ever thought.

_No no no no no. Poor Jane, already that desperate?_

Jane sat straight up. Now was the time for being concerned. Who was this and why did he have so much information? Although, he noticed the next moment, it wasn't so difficult to find something out about a person nowadays. There was the internet, the newspaper, everybody had a homepage, a blog, everybody was sharing everything.

_Who are you?_

Jane closed his eyes again and tried to concentrate while he waited for the next message. It wasn't uncommon that murderers communicated with him, especially serial killers. But who was this guy, another 'fan' of him.

Did he ever meet him, did he dislike or love him? There were so many people in Jane's mind and he couldn't sort them. He had a lot of archenemies, some tried to kill him before, some tried to get his attention. This guy didn't seem to be any different.

It was strange that there came no response. Jane get nervous. Why didn't he write back. It seemed like eternity until the answer came.

_Why do you think I tell you?_

Jane smiled. Typical. "I want to play a game," he said sarcastically and imitated the other guy he didn't know.

_Do you tell me?_

He just had sent the SMS when he already got a response.

_No._

"Funny," he muttered when he suddenly heard someone entering the room.

"Jane, what are you doing?" Lisbon asked.

"I…play online Minesweeper," Jane answered and showed her his phone, of course, not the display side.

It was obvious that she didn't believe him. "I want you downstairs. We need your help in the case."

"Am I a help lying on the couch downstairs?"

"You're a help because you always say when we're completely wrong," Lisbons sighed and Jane followed her downstairs. They have just arrived at the first floor when Jane received another SMS.

_But I can show you._

Jane had to laugh silently. The other guy definitely watched too many movies. Although, he admitted he has just imitated one himself. Make your choice, he thought. I wanna play a game. He shook his head. This guy was nuts, for sure.

"We tried to locate the cell phone, boss," Rigsby informed. He already wore his jacket and Cho was putting his on.

"And?" Lisbon asked.

"He's at North Park. But the signal vanished some seconds ago. He seemed to have turned it off. Cho and I'll check it out but we doubt that he'll be still there."

Lisbon nodded and the two agents disappeared.

"Can I continue sleeping then?" Jane asked and lay down on the couch. He heard Lisbon walking away to her office. He smiled. He just had to wait for the killer to make his next step. He was too sure about himself, he would do a mistake. This was what Jane thought. What he was sure about. He didn't consider that probably he was the one doing the mistake…

**Please review.**


	3. Wrong, dear Jane

Chapter 3

You think it must be boring sometimes. It isn't. There's always something new to discover, something new to experience. And no rules to hold you back.

It is strange, first, disappearing from one moment to another. But you get used to it and you ignore your friends, if you ever had some, your past, if there ever was one.

I don't deny it. I just live on. Friends are past, present is boring but we continue our constant journey into our future, one step ahead, always, that's what it is, future.

I've spent the night waiting for the body to be discovered. I've listened to every word the CBI team has said until Rigsby disabled the bug. Fortunately, Jane had been smart enough, no surprise for me. Nothing surprises me.

Then he wrote back – with his own phone, I can't really decide if this was a foolish thing to do. But nothing he should have been worried about. He doesn't know me, he thinks I'm a stranger, I'm a killer and I'm nuts.

Wrong, dear Jane.

I've set down in the park, at bright daylight. Not a foolish thing, definitely.

A man doesn't pay attention to his environment. A man only sees what he wants to see. I'm being ignored, as I am always. Foolish. A nobody can still do things that somebody notices. I put off my phone and leave the park.

With a taxi I'm driving home. Jane knows I'm out here, he doesn't know how to contact me. But I have time, time to breed my pet. I go straight to bed although I know I can't sleep.

I hear police sirens, I hear people talking on the streets, too crowded outside, I prefer silence, I prefer night. I wait for the night and then I get up. I need to be outside at night, it's my day. I feel home walking through the streets of night people.

The empty city rushes by and suddenly I stop. I stand outside the motel where Jane sleeps. I breathe deeply and pull out my cell phone again. I hesitate, I feel the kick. I call him and hear the ringing.

It takes a while until he takes the call and says "Hello?".

I close my eyes listening to his voice.

"Is it you? You said you wanted to show me, I'm ready."

His voice is sweetness for me, arousal. "All in good time," I whisper and hang up the phone.

I look up to his room, the light switches off again. He may wonder about this 'conversation', he might dream about it this night. I talked to him, finally, I managed to establish a contact, curiosity.

It feels so good so that I decide to visit Sacramento downtown. I need to celebrate my success and feel the bright and colored lights on my pale skin. Girls are looking into my direction, their kiss-mouths, attention feels good but once you're out of sight, you're forgotten again.

I enter the cellar-pub. The smoke is old, it's foggy, you can barely see. Everywhere the reflections of light. Girls around guys, how many girls will remember that night? How many will survive?

I sit down in a dark corner. From here I can see into every direction. I order a beer for celebration. I wait and observe. People laughing and screaming. So many emotions, so unknown to me. Nothing I'd miss. Something that distracts.

My cell phone vibrates, a message from Jane. Are you already as obsessed with me as I am with you? I have to smile, I get my beer and pay. I read.

_I know a good number for a psychiatrist. Do you want it?_

I drink a bit. _What if Lorelei dies before she finds out the truth about her sister's death? Then the effort you put into her is gone… What a shame._ I put the cell away.

Jane, you don't know who you're fucking with. I imagine it. He must be really good, sometimes I wish I was Lorelei. She doesn't know what fabulous moments she must have experienced. It doesn't take long until I receive an answer. Lisbon is right, he can be a pain in the ass.

_You're not Red John. A cordial warning: Don't get too close to him or I have a playground friend less._

I type back. My look meets with one of the girls. She doesn't look bad. _I'm sorry that you can't see the expression of surprise on my face, Jane. You consider Red John as your archenemy, but a killer you know for just a day you consider as a friend. You're more complicated than I thought._

I put the cell away and focus the attention on the girl who sits down next to me. Another girl dead? I don't want to exaggerate and nor overcharge the CBI team.

"Do you have fire?" she asks and pulls out her etui of cigarettes. Still lost in thoughts I search my pockets. I find the lighter, she thanks.

"Shall we go somewhere more quiet?" I ask, my thoughts are with Jane and while she tries to pleases me, the only thing that pleases me is Jane. Dear, sweet Jane. I come, I'm already so close to you. And at the end, you'll know.

I push the girl away again. She falls of to the ground and hurts her ankle. I walk away into the night. I check the girl's purse, an identity card, a bank card, probably I can use it the next twenty-four hours, about hundred-thirty dollar, I'm not her only guy tonight.

There're two stripes, I open one, good stuff inside, white, nor my favorite. It can make the world a bit more colorful, mine is grey while my heart stays black. Jane has written me back.

_Why me?_

I go home. There's nothing to do but to plan my next step.

_You're like me._

He doesn't understand: _You're a murderer. You have no motif, you just like it._

I need him to find himself. _Don't you think you can kill without a reason? Doesn't it please you to revenge? Go one step ahead of vengeance and you're on my path._

No response. Typical.

I'm sitting in a taxi and the street lamps are lines of orange. Everything is blurry, has no shaped. Must be the cocaine. I look at my cell phone. It's only two o'clock in the morning.

Perhaps he _is _ready, I think. Time to find out.

I'm lucky to have contacts, nobody I'd consider as a friend. I call my best contact, I assume I just wake him but for what I have done for him, he doesn't bother. "Yes?" he asked, definitely he just woke up.

"I intend to start," I explain.

"Now?"

"Yes," I confirm and hear him sighing.

"I'll send her to Element X, do you know where it is?"

"Yes."

"Get him there. And tell him to be fast. We shouldn't let Red John know that there's another one in on it."

"Don't worry. When everything goes fine, Red John won't be a problem. You can be sure that he won't know you were the one betraying him."

"I'm glad to hear that. But pay attention, Jane has tricked both Red John and a lot of smart people. You're–"

"I can deal with him," I shortly close the conversation.

I write an SMS to Jane. _Element X, downtown, now._

I tell the taxi driver that I need to go back to Sacramento downtown. I enter the so bright and shiny part of the city at night. So crowded, anonym again, I feel lucky. Perhaps the crowd, perhaps the cocaine, but definitely seeing my love is the creator of the endorphins. _On my way_, I receive. I'm also on my way, I think and try to pass the queues to the discos.

The Element X is in a side-street, popular for those who know it. I know the bouncer and pay the entry. "I'm finished at five," he mutters into my ear.

"I'm already busy tonight, I'm sorry," I murmur back and enjoy him patting me down.

He lets me pass although knowing that I'm carrying a knife. Nobody cares, as I said. I have a look inside. It's full of people, dancing, laughing, kissing, smoking, taking drugs, poking.

I spot Lorelei at a table. She looks a bit lost, probably doesn't she know why she's here. I go over and sit down. I look around. Yet no sign for Jane. She looks up, a bit confused I admit.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"A friend of mine told me to come. Are you working for Red John?"

"No," I laugh. "But your friend is known to me. I asked him to bring you here."

"Why?" she asks, seemingly interested, either in what I say or rather in me. I'd prefer the latter. The last two days I have had enough girls, time for some change, time for some Jane.

"I want you to do what Jane tells you to do," I say silently.

"Jane?" she asks and looks around. "Patrick Jane?"

I nod, my eyes focused on her face. She isn't as pretty as Stiles told me. I don't know what Jane sees in her, perhaps with another haircut and color.

"Jane will come every second. He shouldn't spot you. He'll sit down at a table and I'll have a few words with him. Then he'll come over to you. I recommend you to listen to him closely."

"I always do what Jane tells me," she whispers and I smile. So naïve, so childish. And yet she hasn't really found out or believed the truth that happened to her sister. Lorelei, she's so typical for her name.

I stand up and walk to another table. I don't have to wait for long and Jane sits down on the other side of the room. He looks around, we don't make any eye contact. He doesn't spot Lorelei either.

I walk over to his table. "Mind if I sit down?" I ask.

He shakes his head and I take a seat. I look in his so wonderful green eyes. They're glooming, looking tired, looking interested, looking nervous. His skin seems so soft, he's so different than watching him from distance.

"Who are you?" he asks and I could listen to his voice for decades without getting bored.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"The murderer I search," he answers and leans back.

He takes a closer look, perhaps already knowing so much about me: black, curly hair, light green eyes, pronounced cheekbones, slender, tight shirt, long black coat, dark scarf, sociopathic, smart, non-frequent drug use, alcohol and cigarettes, carful, always cautious, neat, one step ahead of him, probably.

He slowly nods. "Why am I here?" he asks.

His accent is so sweet. "How did you feel…killing Timothy Carter?" I pay back. "You haven't answered me."

"I killed a person…luckily a bad one."

He doesn't trust me, so sweet. "There's no point in lying to me, Jane. I know how you felt. You felt lucky, you felt revenged. And it felt so good. You want to do it again."

He laughs at me. "I'm not like you."

"You are. You just don't know yet. But I can show you."

"You can't," he says but doesn't sound as self-confident as I know him.

"You just have to do as I say."

"And that would be?"

"Lorelei didn't follow your advice. She met Red John but didn't confront him. She won't tell you anything and even if you turn her one day, she immediately is a dead person." "What is your relation to Red John?"

"None at all. I know someone who's his friend. The referee of your little game."

"What do you want me to do?" he asks, theoretically of course.

"Aren't you a bit angry with her? She's so naïve, such a child, she doesn't believe you but seems so confident in having won your love. Is it so?"

"I don't love her, I use her!"

"But she's become useless. No way to change her. Red John has played his cards well. Don't you want to show him that you're not his marionette?"

He thinks about it. "Again: What do you want me to do?"

I lean forward. "Lorelei wanted you to bring her Lisbon's head. Isn't it time to turn the tables?"

"You want me to kill Lorelei?" he asks with widened eyes.

"For a man who doesn't feel anything toward her you're pretty emotional, aren't you?"

"What if I kill her?"

"I can show you what you can truly use your skills for. The CBI is wasting them. Don't you want to pursue Red John on your own way, nobody telling you what to do and what not to do? Don't you want to avenge…and go further? You can do so much more, Patrick Jane, than just solving the cases the CBI is too stupid for. That's their own fault, not yours."

He thinks about it, he really does. I feel joy coming up, I feel so much happiness as I haven't felt for a long time. I see the expression in his eyes switching, I think he must have looked like that when burying this murderer alive, shortly before being fired at work.

He must have looked like that when killing Timothy Carter, when talking to Red John when kidnapped by the copycats or in that limousine with Lorelei.

It's his expression of decision, of being able to do what nobody else would. Because he knows what loss is.

Slowly, he stands up and leaves the table. I turn around and see him taking a seat in front of Lorelei.

This could turn into an interesting night.

**Please write me what you think.**


	4. Defenseless

**You're right. The murderer is described, physically and intended mentally, like Sherlock Holmes of the Sherlock BBC series. I do not own anything.**

Chapter 4

Jane felt nervous when he walked over to Lorelei's table. He sat down without a word and avoided eye contact to the murderer.

What he had found out yet, was simple: he was a typical sociopath, killed when for lust and fun, had no motive and no choice in his victims, he must live an unobtrusive life, avoids people, perhaps he was a drug dealer or stole money. He had no friends and didn't bother to have rare contact with other people.

"What do you want, Jane?" she asked and looked up.

Their eyes met and he saw how unsure she actually felt. "Have you found Red John?" he asked. "Did you ask him for your sister?"

She smiled and shook her head. "He wouldn't have done this."

"Did you ask him?"

"Yes."

"What exactly did he say?"

She kept silence for a moment, so he continued: "He killed her and you know it. So why are you still working for him? He's your enemy."

"Oh, no, Jane. He's your enemy, this is your little game and I'm just part of it. I do what he tells me to do and move on."

He thought twice before he said: "You once told me that we were so similar…and it was strange that we didn't become friends when we first shook hands. Then…how far would you go to do what I tell you?"

"I'd do everything for your game to go on," she whispered like when she had first time told him that she was Red John's closest disciple.

He nodded. She was willing to come with him, but now he needed a plan. He had a look over to the murderer. He was smiling at him, smoking a cigarette and seemed to be like silence itself. Perhaps psychopathic as well.

"Come with me," he said and stood up. She grabbed his hand and together they walked outside. He didn't look back to see if 'The Murderer', as he called him because he still didn't know his name, followed them. They were outside and it was cold immediately.

He looked around. No sign of the man.

"Listen carefully. I have the order to kill you. Not from Red John, but someone else who intends playing a game with me. You need to do exactly as I say."

She nodded and disappeared in the crowd of people.

* * *

Oh, perhaps he thought he could vanish from the surface of the game so easily. But no, Jane, I'm not as silly as you might think, I have my aces in my sleeves as well and not yet are all cards played.

I pull out my cell phone and with a lot of trust I follow them with distance. Jane hasn't even noticed that I put a tiny device into his pocket. My cell made locating him easier.

Finally, I arrive at an empty warehouse. It's in the abandoned industrial area and nobody's here to watch us – except of a few junkies, hookers, dealers, etc. I smile.

Jane, don't try to flee into my territory.

I turn around and see a little room with an open door. Moonlight is shining in and illuminating the scene.

Lorelei tied on a chair, immobile. Jane next to her, blood on his hands, blood on her neck and her chest.

"I did it," he says.

No Jane, you didn't. You're not _that_ emotionless, not yet.

"Do you think you can fool me that easily?" I ask, half amused, half angry that he already cheated before we even started. I walk over to Lorelei but he puts himself into my way.

"I killed her. I did what you wanted. Now I demand some more information about you and about what _I _am doing here. I just killed her because nobody will search her anyway…but believe me, I wouldn't dare to murder anybody else. I'm not you, don't forget that."

It's hard not to laugh. He's a bit out of control, a bit out of character, I admit. "Are you sure about that?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Ah…therefore you pretended to having killed Lisbon and Rigsby. Do you think Red John ever believed you this?"

"I don't doubt it."

"Then he must be more foolish than I thought." I feel his breath on my cheek, his face looks so pale in the moonlight and his lips so violet and thin. His green eyes have a tone of blue-grey, amazing. "However, your plan failed. I'm not Red John, you shouldn't forget that."

I bend forward and look at Lorelei. I touch the blood on her neck and taste it. It's human blood, I know it from experience. Before Jane can say anything to stop me, I hit her on her face as hard as I can.

She falls from the chair on the floor but seems not to move. She did, of course, but she's a good player.

"Stand up, Lorelei," I say bored. He could have done this a little bit better.

"She's dead!" Jane shouts.

Wow, he isn't angry, but he definitely he needs to visit some stress-management course. "I'm disappointed in you, Jane. I expected more," I answer and start kicking the woman.

It doesn't take long until she moans and screams and Jane holds me back. He pulls me from her so that she can stand up. I see her frighten when she stares into my light-blue-green eyes.

"Enough," Jane whispers into my ear and his voice gives me strength.

"I decide when it's enough," I answer and within a few seconds the surprised Jane lies on the ground.

I walk over to Lorelei, a little woman, helpless, defenseless.

I pull out my knife.

I hear Jane screaming. I hear her screaming.

I love the mixture of yells, until suddenly one of them becomes silent. Forever. Now I only listen to Jane's fast breath. I turn around, seeing this little creature curling on the ground, tears in his eyes.

"You…had feelings for her," I say and he doesn't object. Emotions, I'm far beyond that.

"Your own fault," I mutter and help him to stand up. We're close to each other and it feels good. "Don't you want to revenge her death? Wouldn't it feel…so…good?" I whisper and our mouths are nearly touching.

He can't respond, not yet, he stared on the dead body. What's so fascinating with it? It's a corpse, what else? Everybody is so emotional. I roll my eyes and push him against the wall.

"Lorelei…was just a person. We are…just persons, Red John is just a person…we all die, sooner or later. This is what we were meant for. Why not playing a little bit of creator and deciding who shall live and who not? Now tell me…Patrick, who will mourn Lorelei's death except for someone who was just _using _her."

He doesn't respond. The truth is so much pain for some people…Why?

"Avenging your family won't bring it back. It will hurt even more when you don't have anything else to hunt. So why should you stop hunting…it would feel good just to carry on and see what happens."

"Is it what you do…see what happens when you kill people?" he asks with disgust in his eyes.

It makes me smile. "Oh no no no no no. It's not just about _killing _people, we, you and I, could do so much more. We could show that police isn't as smart as they think, that the FBI will never catch Red John. Only you can. But do you really want to? Imagine…Red John dead. What now? A new life…you must be kidding. You have skills, Patrick, you just need to use them the right way."

I step back a bit so that he can stand on his own again. "Think about it," I repeat and leave the room.

I feel his eyes following me, but he stays where he is.

Good night, Patrick. Sleep well and we'll soon see each other again.

**Please review.**


	5. It's easy

Chapter 5

I thought it would take longer until Jane calls me back. I've been on the street, delivering some stuff, when suddenly my cell phone rang. He says he wants in. It isn't that easy, dear Patrick.

I tell him I need to trust him. It's a dark night when I enter the Element X again. After a few seconds I spot Jane at a table in a corner. His hair is wonderfully shimmering in the light, so blonde, so curly, I love it.

Does he really think I believe in such a quick change of mind?

I sit down in front of him and for a while, we just stare at each other. There's nothing I can read in his face and he can't read mine either. It's a battle between us, dear Patrick, a battle of love and death.

"Why did you come?" I finally ask.

"You wanted me to come when I had a change of heart. I did. Doing the work for the police is no long what I need. I'm far beyond that. You were right. It gets boring with the time."

"And you think I believe that?" I ask.

"I shall believe that two days after we met and you couldn't do what I asked you to do, now you are willing to do everything it demands to change sides?"

"It isn't the first time I doubted my goal. About half a year ago, I had the hallucination of my daughter. She told me to stop hunting for Red John. Everything in my life has been about him. This needs to stop. Like he said it himself, I need to start a new life. Can you help me?"

I smile. Dear Jane, I might be not as foolish as you think, so I accept the offer. Just _don't _believe that I'm not prepared. I start to nod. "You know what you have to do?"

"Who shall I kill? Lisbon, Rigsby?"

"Minelli."

That answer surprises him. "Why him?"

"You worked with him, you know each other. But you're not too close. We don't want to exaggerate yet, do we?"

He nods and understands. Faster than I thought. Now I just have to make sure that he really does what I want.

"How do you want to do it, Jane? Leave the CBI and start a new life somewhere else or do you want to continue your work until _they_ figure out what happened to you?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"You continue working at the CBI. I'm pretty sure you're going to investigate the murder on Minelli. I also believe you can make it look like…a Red John murder or something else. In case they get you, you can disappear."

He thinks about it, his eyes twitching slightly. Poor Jane, only human as well. "When shall I kill him?" Jane asks.

"When you want to. Now, tomorrow, next week. It's your choice. But I will accompany you. You know it's not worth playing with me."

"Now," he decides and stands up.

I might be surprised, but at least my face doesn't show any reaction. I stand up as well and whisper "Lead the way" into his ear. Together we leave the club and get into his car. It takes us a twenty minute drive to Minelli's apartment. We sit in the car, the engine's shut down.

"You sure about that?" I look at him.

His eyes are watered, he's so sentimental. He's pressing his lips together and nods.

"Do you want a knife or a gun?" I ask.

"A knife," he mutters. Is he scared?

What do you feel before killing? What do you feel while doing it and afterward? I don't know. How is it to murder a person close to you? I assume I'll never know. I may have the key to the locked doors of the world, but definitely not the one for the room containing emotions.

The only emotion I know is love…love toward dear Patrick.

He leaves the car and I follow. He's so skilled – silently breaks into the entry hall, so quiet. He tiptoes to the stairs. I don't even want to find out how he knows the way to his former bosses sleeping room.

The knife in his hand is shimmering in dangerous silver and I remember my first murder. It was at the beach, in the moonlight. I have dated a girl, our first rendezvous. I brought a knife and she was beautiful, even more when she was full of blood, I was full of adrenaline, a kick and it felt so good.

I smile to myself and stop behind Patrick who's waiting in front of the last door in the corridor. "What are you waiting for?" I whisper into his ear and I'd like to bite in it, softly, of course.

Slowly he opens the door. It doesn't make a single noise.

And there he is.

Jane's former boss, Minelli, peacefully sleeping and dreaming. What is he dreaming about? I usually dream about autopsies, bodies, once I was on a space station that needed to be evacuated. Dreams aren't creepy, they're interesting and I like to explore them.

Jane enters, his hand clenching the knife. Is he nervous? He sits down at the bed of Minelli, I stay in the door. Minelli awakes but before he can say anything, his blood is coloring the white bed clothes in the most wonderful color I can imagine.

Thank you, Jane, for that glance. He cleans the knife at the pillow.

Yes, it's like that, that easy. This is killing. So fast it can be over, oh, I know how to make one suffer, to fight for their lives, how eager are you to live, what is your life's price?

But Jane does it so simple, not complicated at all, although the knife's a very complicated weapon. It shows what is behind the mask of your victims, who they really are, their greatest fear, their inner heart, at their last moment of breath. I know a very people so much closer than their best friends would ever think.

You and I have the same taste, the same weapon we use, the knife and our minds. That's who we are, Jane, killers. And I am just perfect for you, you need to see. Why don't you see – yet?

He hands me the knife and I put it back into my coat pocket. We stare at each other, nobody's talking. "Good," I murmur and turn around.

We leave the house and get back into his car. He doesn't start the engine but stars at the dark street ahead of us.

"That's it?" he asks.

I turn around. His face looks so pale and so sweet. "How far are you willing to go?" I need to know.

"I just killed my former boss," he laughs. "You are right, in every point you said. The CBI isn't the right place for me. I can't do what I am supposed to do."

"Supposed to do what?"

"Supposed to use my skills. Supposed to use them to murder people," he smiles and perhaps it was a glint of joy in his eyes. "Lorelei wondered why I didn't became friends with Red John the moment we shook hands. Perhaps we should have. Maybe he is right saying that we're so similar. Maybe _we_ are really similar."

His face is coming closer to mine and before I can really think about what is just happening, he already pressed his lips onto my mouth and I respond the long and unexpected kiss.

Did he really change his mind? But if he didn't, he would never go _that_ far. Without a word, he starts the engine and we drive back downtown. I leave the car somewhere close to the Element X and he drives away.

I watch his light blue car disappearing into the dark night. He kisses wonderfully. Lorelei must have been the luckiest person ever. As was his wife. As am I right now.

I close my eyes and re-live the moment when our lips were touching, so gently but also so hard. He's a real man, the only man I have ever had feelings for.

I love you, Patrick.

**Okay, to get this straight: I am not in love with Jane nor with the actor. I don't even find him as attractive as most...well, girls do. I have another taste in men/ women. Most of the opinions and thoughts of the murderer toward Jane are pure imagination and fantasy. I do not own anything, not even the club's name.**

**Please comment this chapter.**


	6. Crime Scene

Chapter 6

It was afternoon already when Minelli's body was found. Jane thought it would happen earlier. Lisbon looked quite shocked when she entered the CBI office after a talk with her boss and informed the team which death they had to investigate.

Jane tried to look surprised as well, but honestly he didn't know what he would look like when it was news to him. However, they were driving to the crime scene, Minelli's house. Rigsby seemed to be very touched by the fact of Minelli's sudden death, Cho was the 'Iceman' as always. Jane had a bit pity for Lisbon who was nearly crying and there were a lot of sobbing police officers.

Jane himself felt a little bit bad, he hadn't had so much disgust from killing the former boss. Actually, he had hardly felt anything. It was an uneasy thought for him that 'the man' was right, even Red John was. That moment Jane noticed he didn't even know the murderer's name. Perhaps he was going to tell him soon.

"Jane!" Lisbon barked, obviously not the first time.

He had been too lost in thoughts. "Yes?" he asked and looked around. He spotted Minelli just like he left him. Moments of the murder came to his vision again. Was it a bad feeling? Not necessarily.

"What do you think?"

"Well…murdered with a knife. Perhaps something personal, he did have enemies."

"And?"

"And what?"

"You always have more to say."

"Well, here isn't more to say. This man was murdered."

"This man? We're talking about Minelli! God, Jane! Are you here with your mind or just with your body?" she yelled loudly.

Jane rolled his eyes and looked back at the corpse. His own coldness scared him. As did the memory of having kissed a cruel sociopath. He noticed Lisbon shaking her head while he walked out of the room.

He jumped down the stairs and tried not to smile. In a strange kind of way he felt relieved. Really relieved, he didn't know of what. He tried to think about Red John and his losses but nothing could make his mood worse. Even Red John, his most evil and dangerous archenemy didn't seem to scare or worry him a bit. He gazed into the sky and tried to read the clouds.

There was a dragon, a ship and a big dog. But it didn't matter, he had no idea what actually created this joy, a friend of him died and he has killed him, but there was this new feeling, a feeling he had once touched when killing Timothy Carter.

Perhaps that sociopath was right, he thought with frightened surprise and disgust. He hadn't wanted to actually _believe _ what he said but now it all seemed so true. The joy, the happiness. He suddenly knew _why_ men committed crimes and murdered helpless people. It all seemed so reasonable.

Before Lisbon could follow Jane down and shout as long as it took to get him back to the crime scene, Jane already sat in his car and drove back downtown. He needed to meet this guy again and find out what he really planned. He could not deny that he was kind of clever and that he would have been a very challenging enemy, perhaps even worthy to equal Red John.

"Red John, Red John, Red John," Jane muttered. "I'll get you."

* * *

I was so surprised when dear Jane called. I first thought it was a joke, his change of heart. But he sounded so cute, so persuasive like a psychic always does. He still has his powers. But he seemed so happy when he wanted to meet me and I had to calm him down saying that we'd encounter when the sun was down.

So probably he has spent a long time waiting while I spent a long time working. I arrived at the Element when it was around half past eight and of course, there was nothing happening yet. There were barely people, only the hard core already was – or still was – drunk. I spott Jane, having already ordered two beers.

"I was at the crime scene today," he says with a little smile when I sit down. "It was fun," he adds and takes a sip of his beer.

I look skeptical and distrustful.

He notices. "Hey, what's up? I did what you wanted and you were right in every point you promised!"

"It's too fast. I didn't expect to be right, to actually persuade or convince you," I admit.

"Oh come on. If I faked it, I would have of course taken myself more time. But you were fucking right!" he said with enthusiasm. He was not Jane-like, not at all. He leaned forward and continued: "I was so close jumping on Minelli's face again. I remember how often he screamed at me!"

I shook my head. Of course, I have the same sensations from time to time but I still know what is normal and real and what I can allow myself to do and what not. It's becoming nine o'clock and Jane turns around when the music is getting louder.

I use the moment in which he is distracted and grab the little plastic bag I have in the pocket of my trousers. I open it and fill the white powder into his beer glass before he turns around. He notices nothing and I sip my beer as well.

"Jane…do you have an idea who Red John is?" I suddenly change the topic.

"I have 452 ideas," Jane mentions and drinks his beer as well.

He really doesn't notice anything. "What's your favorite guess?" I ask. He must have an idea.

"Red John is male, old enough to having killed 25 years ago. He's or was a member of Visualize. That could be plenty of people."

"Jane…"

"Bret Stiles."

I try not to laugh. "He has his fingers deep into everywhere, that's true but it would be too simple, wouldn't it? Nah, Jane. I have contact to Stiles, he helped me getting Lorelei here but I have to disappoint you, he's just a normal guy with unnormal knowledge and influence. Guess again."

He hesitates and nearly half-finished his beer.

Good, Jane. Drink on and I'll have you exactly where I want you. Where I need you.

"Bret Patridge."

"Close guess and he's not quiet the average type either. But no…disappointed as well. Although I think he has once talked about a murder he committed or wanted to commit."

"How do you know?" Jane said suddenly awake as never before.

"He talks while sleeping," I see and Jane needs about a few seconds to get what I just said.

"Ah," he makes but seems not interested in developing the conversation any further into this direction.

"Jane…I'm not a very patient person, you know."

"You expect me to find a murderer now who I haven't found the last ten years," Jane answered a bit aggressively.

Perhaps the first consequences of the drug. I don't answer and he sighs. He closes his eyes, probably entering his mind palace, it's the amusement park he has grown up on. My mind palace is fictional, not comparable to his. Suddenly, he opens his eyes again and I find myself staring into his wonderful eyes.

"I have no fucking idea," he finally says. I smile at him.

"Come with me, Jane," I suggest.

Jane is so focused on Red John, but what would happen if Red John died…and not by his hands…and without any revenge? I help Jane up, he notices that he can hardly walk due to the drugs.

We make it to his car where I put him on the co-driver's seat. Silently, we vanish into the dark night.

**Please do review.**


	7. No pulse

**Please review.**

Chapter 7

Jane knew that he must be stoned. It was that feeling he had had before, from time to time. It felt a bit like devil's cherry but this time he was alone – at least his daughter wasn't there. But the other guy was.

He was so much taller than him, so paler, so extreme in every direction, so slender, so pronounces cheeks. Jane walked with him, arm in arm. He sensed how he fell onto a bed but he couldn't do anything.

He removed his clothes, he didn't know why. The man was naked as well and now crawling onto him. Jane didn't feel anything, not the touch, not the weight. There was nothing to sense, he barely heard, there was something summing in the background.

But perhaps just in his imagination. He turned around and closed his eyes, silently dreaming to the tact his body was moving. He heard the sighing and moaning of the black-haired guy above him.

Jane was too far away to notice anything, he was dreaming of _a dark and wet cellar with a single light bulb. He was sitting right under it, and all those people were walking around him, Lisbon, Van Pelt, Rigsby, Cho, Hightower, Wainwright_ – Wainwright was dead.

Jane suddenly opened his eyes. The man was falling next to him on the bed, exhausted.

Jane turned to him. Wainwright was dead. He had been dreaming. He crawled onto the man.

He kissed his lips, he licked his chin and neck and chest nipples. He went further down and still licked and started giving head. Jane felt the arousal and was back in that dark interrogation room again. He knew he was unconscious but he couldn't awake.

It felt so good being here, so right. He saw again the black-haired man crawling onto him. _He saw Lisbon bending down to him, he was sitting on the ground. He couldn't move, was he tied up?_

The man licked his cheek, _Lisbon fondled his cheek_. Jane's eyes started rolling up and down, his body moved right and left but he couldn't control himself. Finally, he gave up the fight between reality and dream and _he was fully in the black room now_.

_Wainwright was collapsing, blood was running down his body, too much blood flowing on the floor. The whole ground was red now and Van Pelt came closer, walking through Wainwright's blood._

"Decide, Jane, decide," _she hissed and her eyes were glooming. Jane tried to turn around but something held him back._

"Remember on which side you belong," _Lisbon whispered and kissed his nose._

My subconscious, Jane thought. It wants me to return to the CBI and forget the good feeling when I killed Minelli. "You belong to him," _it was Rigsby who was now speaking, right next to his ear._

"He's like you, he can show you how to re-discover yourself," _Cho answered_.

"Remember what is good for you," _said Van Pelt. She was coming closer and her orange hair was glowing reddish._

"You must be on the right side. You are not Red John, you are his enemy. You must fight evil with good," _answered Lisbon. Her eyes were even darker than the usual brown._

"Red John is your friend, Jane. How often has he yet told you that?" _Rigsby asked with a laughter. Suddenly, everything went blurry _again and Jane awoke soaked in sweat.

He looked around. Everything around him was dark, there was some light coming in from the window. Next to him, there was this guy lying. He was breathing softly, like that, nobody would think how pervert and crazy this man really was.

Jane closed his eyes and wiped away the memory of the nightmare. He looked at the alarm clock, indicating four in the morning.

He turned around and tried to sleep again, crawling closer to the man whose name he still did not know.

* * *

I am again the one who drives. This time he is awake. The blurry lights rushing by are nothing I'll remember once we're past them.

What is important to remember and what isn't?

It's a difficult question but for you, Jane, it is easy to make.

We drive on and he gives up to ask where we're going. Outside of the town and everywhere is desert around us. Why does he have to live so far away? Finally, we arrive and I get out of the car.

"Where are we?" Jane asks.

I shrug. "I don't know either. I just know who we're going to meet."

"Who?" he asks and follows me to the gas station a few meters away from where I parked.

"Our next victim," I answer and we enter the small building. There're no other cars, so we entirely alone.

Just the owner of the gas station is here and he looks up when we enter. I bet he must think we're crazy, dressed up so warm against the heat outside. It's because we drove South and it's because we're in California. I liked Britain much more.

I step to Jane and whisper into his ear: "Shall I kill him?"

"I know him…"

"I know," I answer.

The man's eyes are fixed on Jane, yes, they both remember each other. "Mr. Jane, haven't heard of you quite a while!" he answers and walks toward him to shake hands.

"Mars…Elliot Mars, right? The Mentalist?"

"Oh…I'm not a psychic anymore. You ruined my business," he says, the last thing he ever says before I took the benzene canister and hit him. He falls down immediately, seriously bleeding at his head. I kick him a few times into his face until he stops moving.

I feel aroused, my heartbeat's faster, my breath heavier. And yes, you make me feel it even more, Jane, I think and look up into his pale face. He looks uneasily around and tries to smile at me. No, you don't fool me like that.

"There're surveillance videos," I mentioned and point at the ceiling. Jane nods and walks over to the computer and the cash box. He deletes the last videos and disables the cameras.

"So easy?" he asks.

"Always," I answer when we drive back to Sacramento.

When shall I tell him?

When is he ready to find out that he'll never be able to revenge his family?

* * *

It was about two hours later when Jane got the call. I raise and eyebrow but continue cleaning an old knife of mine that has served me so well. I like polishing my weapons, thinking about with which I have killed how many people, how and what their last words were.

"It's Lisbon," Jane answers and gives me a short kiss before I see him leaving the flat. I sigh and turn back to the knife which is shimmering in beautiful silver.

* * *

Jane stepped out of the car and was surprised on how many police cars could be seen at the crime scene. He entered the gas station he has only left some hours ago with a blood bath behind. Now, it seemed far more noisy and hectic.

He looked up in Teresa's face and was shocked by grief and disgust that he noticed.

"What is up?" he asked. Would she look like that just for Elliot Mars, a former psychic and now the owner of a half-abandoned gas station.

"This is Elliot Mars," she said and pointed at the body lying right next to her. "No fingerprints on the canister, someone must have worn gloves."

Yes, Jane thought. He nearly wore gloves all the time. "And so?" he asked, still not understanding her sorrow.

"Come with me," she said in a very soundless voice.

He followed her to the back of the station, passing an 'Authorized personnel only'-sign. She opens a door and it leads into a dark cellar. "There has been a power blackout," she explained and takes the torch of a police officer who was just climbing up the stairs.

"What? He was just a psychic and a gas station owner, Lisbon, what is he supposed to have in his cellar?" Lisbon stopped and held the torch right into Jane's face who had to squint.

"You don't know," she determined with an astonishing tone in her voice and continues stepping downward. It was a very small cellar which was obviously artificially expanded after building the station.

They entered a small room and Lisbon gave Jane the torch. He raised an eyebrow and stepped in, illuminating the small room. There were two beds at each side, something was lying on one of them.

He had to squint his eyes and came closer, immediately backing off. He had the sudden urge to vomit but could keep his temper. There was a young woman lying, blonde hair, beautiful, slender, naked and cut open with an awful lot of deep cuts.

Her eyes showed the fear and disgust, the last feelings she had ever sensed. Then he held the torch a bit higher. He nearly stumbled and fell down backward if Lisbon hadn't caught him.

She took his torch and illuminated the rest of the wall. Everywhere were outlined and painted smileys, bloody, grinning faces in all forms and sizes that stared down at them.

"We have found documents, lists of his victims and disciples and contacts. He was Red John," Lisbon said and finally couldn't help him anymore. Jane fell down to the ground and didn't notice anything anymore.

Lisbon screaming for help. Rigsby running into the room. Feeling his slowing pulse.

How cold he became. Just the shock, the agent decided and put Jane on the other bed to lie down.

Just what Red John has always wanted. Seeing Jane as a victim, on one of his beds.

Has Red John, although dead, now finally succeeded?

Breaking Jane? Compromising him?

Turning him into an evil picture of himself?

**Don't forgte to leave me a little comment :)**


	8. Babies

**The fanfic is slowly heading toward an ending...of course, there'll be a ninth chapter but I can't promise a 10th. So please leave me as many reviews as possible for this chap! :)**

Chapter 8

Jane felt like being wrapped into cotton. He felt numb. The only way to describe it. Lisbon was driving him back to CBI headquarters. After Jane has fainted and woken up again, he hasn't said a single word and she didn't dare to talk to him about anything. He has become so strange in the last days, did it have something to do with this psychopathic murderer they were still hunting?

Jane had nothing to talk about. He had betrayed him. He had killed Red John in front of his eyes, without saying a word to him. How could he have been so foolish to trust him? How could he have been so foolish to like it? Or was it all part of a big bad plan? First Minelli, then Red John…who would follow next? Jane wasn't sure, not even if he really wanted to know what would follow.

This guy has taken him his revenge. What was left now? He felt empty, without destination…without destiny. What was his purpose? He couldn't found a new family, he couldn't find a woman, who wanted him? Lisbon? Don't be ridiculous, he thought. He stared at the ceiling, ignored Rigsby and Cho silently whispering. What did this 'guy' plan? Everything was a plan and Jane was stepping from one development point to a higher one.

And when he was finished with him, he probably was like him, psychopathic, sociopathic, a loner, cynical, a reckless murderer.

He needed a name. He needed a background. He needed to know who this guy really was. They have murdered together, drunken together and slept together and he still knew _nothing_.

He pulled out his cell phone. _Clever move._

He put the cell back into his pocket, alarmed that every second he should receive an answer. But nothing happened, for a while. Suddenly, he felt the vibration. He looked around but Cho and Rigsby were too busy with the Red John case. Funny, actually Jane always thought he'd be the busy one once that Red John was either caught or dead. Now the latter has happened.

_How are you feeling?_

Jane hesitated. What did he want to hear? That he was upset, angry, full of hatred? Nothing, just empty and numb. So unreal. All the time he has been looking for Red John and a final chance to end his suffering and now he didn't have no goal to achieve anymore.

_I'd've liked to kill him myself. I have been after him for over 12 years! _He wrote back.

_I know._

This answer was so fast that Jane was damn sure that the guy only had waited for receiving his message. _I feel numb. And empty. In case you really wanna know._ Jane shook his head.

What was he doing? Has he already succeeded? Has he become a step closer to being a fully functional psychopath? Not that he never denied his cynical and not-caring side but he had feelings, feelings that shall not be hurt.

_What am I supposed to do next?_ He asked.

He was bored. What shall he do now? Whatever they told him, start a new life, Jane, go away and try to forget everything. But there were things you can never forget. And murder of child and wife were definitely one of those things.

_What do you want to do next?_

This wasn't quite a helpful answer. This moment, he heard someone entering the office. It was Lisbon who started talking with Cho and Rigsby. She shortly looked over to Jane to see if he was still alive. Jane had already once pretended killing her, he couldn't fool this guy.

But what was necessary to do…what? He could meet him and get him arrested by CBI. But he had lived with him through a lot and somehow he felt their similarities. Perhaps he was a new kind of Red John…and Red John always wanted to be his friend.

So why not starting like this?

* * *

I don't get an answer. It makes me feel a bit nervous because I have no idea what Jane plans next. Perhaps the murder on Red John had exactly the effect I wanted to reach – but perhaps even the opposite one. Jane is now free and he has the chance to do whatever he wants. But what is it he wants?

When Jane wrote me, I had been at home with one of those nameless sluts who have nothing to do at daylight. How did Jane like sleeping with me? He didn't notice much. Drifting in and out of unconsciousness, I know a lot of people, my little favorite drug is just what he needed.

Right after he didn't write back, I push the slag from me and get dressed. Without a word, I crawl onto her again but my hands clench around her neck. It would be boring to kill a prostitute like this again so I just wait until she's unconscious.

Without being noticed, I bring her into my car. I think about where I should bring her and suddenly, I have an idea. I turn around and go for a house I've never been before. The sun is already getting down so I doubt anybody would notice me, I am a shadow and even if, it would only remind them that I am still out there.

The girl in the rear trunk awoke and with a pretty nice knife I can persuade her to cross the street without incidents. I look into the windows of the house but neither Cho nor anybody else seems as home. With a kick I open the door and throw the girl on the floor.

I take the knife and without hesitating for long, I knee down and the knife rushes up and down, into the flesh, into the warm and soft flesh, no tenderness. She screams for a while but finally stops and only blood is dripping out of her mouth anymore, as the dark liquid already begins flowing on the wooden ground.

Its different colors are mixing, blood isn't like in all the movies, just red, it is dark red, light red, brown, depending from where you stabbed in and as I also cut into her cheeks and I think I reached even her brain, there's a lot of beautiful red-tones mixing with a few unidentified clumps that could be parts of adenochondrosarcoma, nerve tissue and brain.

Pretty, I think and stand up again. My trousers are soaked with blood, as are my gloves and my shirt is sprinkled with red points, only my dark coat is still clean. I smile satisfied and lick the blade.

I put the knife back into my shoe and leave the house. I don't care if anybody sees me. They'll know who I am. Perhaps I shouldn't have given this slut drugs, perhaps it was a bit hard from me to get especially her.

After her pregnancy and after she had divorced from her husband, she had returned to Sacramento. And I was luckily the one to persuade her to do her old job again.

Poor Summer, and your child will soon be found again, not as red as you, babies don't have that much blood.

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	9. Plan

**LAST CHAPTER ALARM!**

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Chapter 9

It was early morning when Lisbon entered the crime scene. She already noticed that a murder had happened in this innocent little suburb house when she saw that the door was kicked and crashed against the wall. She followed the corridor inside and was surprised that Jane wasn't here already.

His car was parked outside but when she looked back, she noticed him talking with one of the neighbors. She rolled her eyes and continued into the dining room. Cho and Rigsby looked up and Lisbon smiled at them shortly while they continued taking photos.

"Hello there," she suddenly heard a familiar voice and turned around when she recognized someone she hadn't seen for a while. It was Brett Patridge, her 'favorite' crime scene analyst and forensic scientist.

"Patridge?" she said surprised. "What brings you here?"

"Dr. Watson is retiring. That brought our ghoul back to us, right?" Rigsby teased and even Cho could be seen smiling slightly.

Patridge ignored them but stepped over toward the body.

"A blood bath," Lisbon commented. "Looks very clean."

"A crime scene never is clean," Patridge mentioned and examines the white floor panels, the shimmering counter of the American kitchen.

"The murderer comes in," Patridge started the analysis.

_He kicks against the locked door. It goes open so easily. The woman hears the noise and looks up. But he continues walking through the entry hall, along the corridor. She wants to have a look, she was just preparing the meal._

"She was preparing dinner. The onion's half cut. She noticed that the door was opened and walked over here," the forensic scientist noticed. "She recognizes the man and does not run toward the phone to call the police."

"She would have never been so foolish to let a murderer into her house and even kill her," Rigsby answered. He was close to tears and very nervous. "No, that wasn't like her."

"She knew him."

_"What are you doing in here?" she asks when she recognizes the man standing in the corridor. He walks forward and she returns into her kitchen. When she turns again, he stands directly in front of her. "You're scaring me," she says and tries to smile._

"He takes the knife and kills her. See this puddles of blood?" Patridge added and pointed to the blood stripes at the counter. "When he stabbed her the first time, she tries to close the wound with her hands, she is surprised and can barely stand.

She looks for support and puts her hand on the counter. She's too weak and stumbles aside. Look at the circular blood drops on the floor there. She stood for a while, probably thinking she'd lose consciousness. She doesn't and continues walking forward, that's why these drops of blood have the shape of an ellipse. And now here, this is a partial foot print of the murderer. He accidentally walked into the fresh dropped blood."

_She coughs and tries to scream for help. But her eyes show what she really is: A weak woman, whose best education couldn't prevent letting the murderer inside her house and trusting him. She tries to stand up but the bloody hand couldn't get hold of the counter._

_She stumbles forward and hears him following her. "Why?" she croaks and finally finds balance again. She turns around, bend forward and trying to push her hands on the stab wound at her stomach._

_Blood is dripping on the floor, circular drops again and she rolls her eyes, the blood loss is immense. She reaches for the wall next to her but steps backward immediately as the murderer starts to move again._

"Have a look here," Patridge said enthusiastically while Rigsby was close to vomiting. Cho looked at his friend with a concerned glance that nobody has seen in his eyes before.

Patridge put down the bag he was carrying and takes out a battery lamp. He tells some other officers to shade the room.

"Isotope analyses isn't necessary, I suppose. But here's the cyanacrylat liquid, iodine sputtering, rather vaporization as you may call it…and here it goes," he muttered and the lamp illuminated the white wall paper. Suddenly, they noticed the shining print of her hand on the wall.

"It's a bit blurry here…and here, because she backed off as soon as the murdered came closer. Here you also have the blood drops again…see the blood on the couch which she passed while trying to reach the cell phone over there?" the crime scene analyst asked while his light green eyes were glooming and smiling, enjoying a crime scene with so many hints.

"Then how did she come over there?" Cho asked annoyed and pointed at the body which was lying about two meters far away from the couch. "There's no blood, is there?" he added and pointed on the floor.

"No…he cleaned it. He started to clean the crime scene but he probably was interrupted."

_She continues walking backward, losing more and more blood. I have to clean all this up, the murderer thinks as he swings the knife in his hand._

"See these blood splashes. Those spots are created when he swung around the murder weapon and the blood flew through the room. This also explains the red spots on the wall over there."

"Why is here so much blood?" Lisbon asked a bit annoyed, too. She didn't want to know all the details, it was bad enough that they had to work on this crime scene.

"Oh, that's easy. She fell to the ground," Patridge started.

_She looks at all the blood that is running through her fingers and flowing in thick strands down on the floor. She collapses and before she could stand up again, he is next to her, kneeing down with the knife in his hand. He eyeballs the bloody blade but throws it away._

"He threw away the murder weapon when he was sure that it was not of use for him anymore. It landed under the dining table and explains the blood spots that mark the whole way from here until the wood over there."

_He bends forward and with his gloved right hand he hits as hard and powerful as he could on her already seriously bleeding wound that she tried but failed to protect. She yelled out loudly, probably the scream that alarmed the neighbors to call the police._

"When you hit an already bleeding wound or onto an artery – in this case both – you get this distribution pattern. It also tells us that he used all of his force and considering the angle of impact and the direction, I can tell you that he wasn't very tall. Six feet at most."

_The blood bespatters and shoots into all possible directions and he had to close his eyes shortly and look away. Her shouts are getting louder and louder and he stands up fast to kick his foot directly into her face._

"Then he kicked her, probably because she was screaming so loudly. Here you see the blood from his shoe mixing with the blood than ran down her nose and from the broken bone that spiked her cheek. You notice the different colors…?" Patridge said

and pointed on the bloody mixture of red and brown tones that Rigsby definitely didn't want to notice as he was muttering "Excuse me" and running away as fast as he could until he stumbled down the doorsteps and puked onto the neat tiles of the front garden on which he landed seconds later. Disgusted by having falling into his own vomit, he had to choke again.

Patridge, who had stepped into the floor to observe it all, came back to the dining room and without a word continued examining the dead body. With open mouths, Cho and Lisbon listened to him although it was questionable if his words really reached their minds.

"The livor mortis show that she died in this position. The blood gathered in her behind and also her heel. As well as you can see how pale her face is in comparison to the small pieces of dark red skin behind her ears," he explained and turned the body a bit to have a better look.

_"Why?" she manages to mutter. She already spits blood which is flowing down her chin and dropping next to her on the already blood-covered floor._

_He does not answer but continues hitting into her stomach until both he and the floor are soaked with blood, her blood. Finally, he stands up and breathes out deeply. Success, he thinks._

"The Locard rule. You can't commit a murder or even meet a person without leaving any traces," Patridge said with a huge grin on his face. He could have been a perfect Red John, Lisbon thought while she stared stunned into his light eyes.

"And what shall we do now? The murderer didn't leave a trace leading us to his house, did he?" Jane asked.

Lisbon turned around to him. Their counselor has stayed in the background for a while, she was curious why he hasn't done anything against Patridge who he obviously didn't like. But no, Jane had only followed them silently that she nearly forgot that he was still there. And usually you couldn't forget when he was somewhere.

"Yes, he did," Patridge answered triumphing. "Ever heard of mantrailing?"

_He walks away from the corpse, he doesn't want to feel the pulse, he doesn't want to be that sure. He nearly stumbles backward but then turns around and looks at the mess he created. He takes some pieces of paper he finds and starts cleaning the floor._

"Oh, before I forget," Patridge suddenly remembers when a colleague brought him a bottle of luminol.

He prepared another lamp from his back and lighted the floor they were walking on. Some traces of blood that weren't cleaned away properly shimmered in blue.

"You can't clean a crime scene, as I said," he added and switched off the light. He nodded to the officers who removed the black paper and daylight began enlightening the room again.

_He is cleaning the white floor tiles, he just can't leave her dead in an untidy room like this, when he suddenly heard voices speaking outside. Has the police already arrived? Or were neighbors talking about those screams they've noticed. He didn't have time to find out but quickly got rid of the papers and left the crime scene without looking back._

"You said something about mantrailing," Lisbon reminded the forensic scientist.

"Oh, yeah. The dogs must arrive soon. They can smell far better than we humans do and trace odor molecules even after days and also through very crowded places, such as railway stations or colleges."

As soon as he has finished his sentence, a police officer came in with two dogs. "Er…Cho…will you do this, and take Rigsby with you," Lisbon stammered, still perplex of how much this Patridge ghoul was able to read in this crime scene.

Cho nodded and passed them, taking the leashes and outside searching for Rigsby who was not as green in his face anymore as he had been before.

"Great…and we'll find the killer like this?" Lisbon turned skeptically to Patridge again.

"Yes…the extraordinary sense of smell could lead us directly to the house door of our murderer," he answered with a huge grin.

Lisbon nodded and left the house without any other word. Jane wanted to follow her, but leaned over to Patridge and whispered: "Next time, try not to enjoy it like that. She was a good agent…and friend."

Leaving Patridge alone with the corpse of the red-haired agent, Jane went over to Lisbon who was leaning against his car and silently watching the police officers doing their work. "Why? Why should anybody kill her? She was such a nice friend…a very good agent."

Jane nodded calmly.

"I need to go," Lisbon suddenly said.

"Go where?" he asked surprised.

"I don't know. Away from here. Can I have your car keys?"

"Why mine?"

"I came here with Cho and Rigsby. Cho has the keys," she explained shortly.

"I'll drive," Jane decided and surprisingly without resistance, his boss stepped into his blue car.

"Where shall I drive?" Jane asked.

"I don't know…somewhere."

They didn't speak much, actually, not at all. Lisbon couldn't think of anything else than the murder of poor Agent Van Pelt. As an employer at CBI, she had a lot of enemies, of course, but she has been at the training for a while and Lisbon couldn't think of anyone who had wanted her dead.

She didn't even notice that she cried until tears started to drop on her hands. She wiped them away and suddenly noticed where they were driving.

"I tell you: Drive me anywhere, and you drive me home?"

"Well, I thought that would be where you'd like to be most right now," Jane answered and parked in front of Lisbon's house. Lisbon sighed but got out of the car when Jane was already walking straight toward her house.

"You don't have a key," she sighed when she followed him.

But Jane only looked around before he picked up the doormat and found a key under it. "Oldest trick in the world," he answered and caught a deadly look from Lisbon. Nevertheless, he opened the door and stepped in.

"And what now?" Lisbon asked and put her jacket on the table in the entry hall.

"I don't know. I'll make tea and you'll sit down on the couch and wait for me, okay?" he proposed with exactly the same huge grin that Patridge had had.

Lisbon was a bit surprised of how awkward Jane was acting but she tried to ignore it. Everyone was a bit strange when just losing a good friend. And Jane definitely never was doing whatever Lisbon expected.

So she slipped into her house shoes and sat down on the couch in the living room. She didn't want to put on TV and so she just stared outside the window and waited.

"Jane?" she asked after she hasn't heard him opening and closing some cupboards anymore.

"I'm coming," he answered and she continued getting lost in thoughts. She turned her head when he entered the living room.

"The tea needs a few minutes," he answered and went over to the window. "Isn't it beautiful weather?"

"What? Jane! Van Pelt just died!"

"I know," he answered and started walking back to the kitchen. He stopped at the couch, exactly behind Lisbon. He bent forward and answered: "But we'll soon figure out who the murderer was."

_He leaves the house through the backdoor. Luckily, he had stored some other clothes a few blocks away in an abandoned apartment and he arrives there without being seen. He changes his clothes and starts burning a fire on the floor tiles._

_He keeps it small but he knows that dogs can follow him up to here. When the fire has stopped burning, he takes out some doses of deodorant of the bag he had brought here. He is careful for not enlightening the fire again. After a while, it stinks like in a sports locker room but he doesn't care. He takes the bag and leaves the house through the back yard._

_His car is parked only a few meters away and right after he threw the sports bag on the back seat, his cell phone rings. "Jane here," he answers and Lisbon sadly informs him about the tragic incident at Van Pelt's house. "I'll be right there," he says and ends the phone call. A huge grin is filling his face. The game has just begun._

"Jane…everything alright with you?" Lisbon said and suddenly had an awkward feeling.

"With me? Everything's alright. But I wouldn't be so sure if I asked you," he answered and Lisbon wanted to continue asking but suddenly noticed something cold at her neck. She looked down and saw that Jane was holding a knife just under her chin.

"I have no idea where you're going with this but would you be so nice to put that knife away from my neck?" she said calmly and became louder with every word.

"No, Lisbon. And do you know, why not? Because he was right…the psychopath I mean. He killed Red John, he killed that slut a few days ago, he killed Lorelei…and he said I'd waste my time with you guys…Just look at you. Chasing killers, the great California, the CBI…oh…So old fashion…you're nothing without me," he hissed [yes, you recognize the last words from the Skyfall trailer].

"Jane," she whispered but he just pressed the knife closer at her neck.

"Any…important last words to say?" he asked and kissed Lisbon on the cheek. "I take that as 'no'."

* * *

It is late night when I receive a call from Jane. This time even a call and not an SMS. I'm surprised. He tells me to go out and meet him downstairs.

It is dark outside. Aren't all nights dark?

He invites me into his car and I don't ask where we're driving. He doesn't say a word, I sigh and look outside. I put my collar high up again, protect me from everything outside. I look at Jane, so many people just liked to bite into his cute cheeks, and his curly hair is so handsome.

How could I have ever thought about killing this guy?

We arrive at Lisbon's house. What are we supposed to do here? I look at Jane. "I have a gift for you," he explains with a smile and steps out of the car. I follow him over the street. His cell phone rings but he doesn't answer the call.

"Did you change your ringtone?" I ask.

"It's Lisbon cell," he says but finally answers this call. "Listen Rigsby, Lisbon doze off on the couch. I'll call back as soon as she wakes up, okay?... Keep on searching. He couldn't erase all trails, could he?"

Jane puts away the cell and opens the door. I follow and put on my gloves. He switches on the light and leads me into the living room. Puzzled, I stop in the door.

The couch and coffee table have been pushed aside and the white carpet is lying in the middle of the room. Well, it once _was_ white. It is sprinkled red and the pale body of Agent Teresa Lisbon is lying right on it. My mouth drops open and I'm not able to say anything. Is she really dead? Has he really killed the person he had fallen in love with?

"You showed me what truly counts," he says and nods to the corpse. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Do with her body whatever you like and then I'll call the cops." He leaves and walks upstairs.

I still stand there and don't know what to do. Slowly I walk over and feel her pulse at her arm, her neck, I feel her stomach and her mouth and nose for breath. Nothing. Just her neck is cut open. Very deeply, as I see. So much blood flew out of her. She has to be dead.

It definitely is her blood and she definitely has to be dead. Slowly, my astonished look turns over into a smile.

Something I have always dreamed of. And you make it possible, Jane. You're the chose one, you're mine. I lower my trousers and pants and I don't even need to do much more, only the thought of you, Jane, killing the pretty, beautiful Lisbon makes all the work for me.

And slowly I move my pelvis toward hers and forward and backward and she doesn't even notice anything. I fondle her pale cheek, spit into her opened eyes, still staring at the ceiling. Dear Lisbon, did Jane betray you? Did he choose someone else? Did he choose me?

Jane already comes down again and sees me lying over the dead body.

"Finished?" he asks and puts now his own cell phone back into the pocket. I dress and nod.

Together we leave Lisbon alone.

We start walking away. My hands are gliding into the pockets of my coat. I don't look back. This woman is past. Past is not of interest. Present is neither. The future is what counts.

What is my future?

What is Jane's future?

What are we supposed to do in a broken and crazy world like this? I don't know when we step into Jane's car again.

I don't know yet that he will be the one betraying me. Me, all over again.

That everything is planned.

I never have a plan, I'm spontaneous.

And that will finally be my fault. Because a man like Jane cannot be turned.

Whatever you do, he'll just stay Jane. And Jane stayed Jane. Whatever I tried.

**Please comment this last chapter.**


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